I haven't done this before, but I just wanted to thank everyone who has been reading/reviewing/favoriting/following, etc.

Also, special shoutout to Grima and Dani Mite who are my most frequent reviewers.

You guys rock!

It had been a long week.

After being publicly berated by their father for not visiting enough, Alonzo and Admetus were now spending the next few days in the company of Bustopher's club friends and patrons.

Which was all fine, except for the fact that now the Jellicles were rather short staffed and Munkustrap had to take on more patrol shifts than he would have liked. George had come back earlier this week with some scratches after having a run-in with one of Macavity's rats. Bombalurina later said she may have spotted another one loitering around the border.

Munk wanted to say this wasn't a good time for Macavity to come sniffing around, but really, when was it ever a good time? He would have liked to double the number of patrols, but they were strained enough as is, which naturally led the Jellicle protector himself to pick up the slack.

If that wasn't bad enough, Demeter was unusually quiet this week. She wasn't refusing to talk to him, but Munk could tell that something was definitely bothering her. He guessed it may have to do with Mac's sudden reinterest in the junkyard, but they had dealt with scares like that before without Dem giving him the silent treatment. However, he knew that pushing her to talk would only drive her farther away, so Munk kept his distance. She would come to him when she felt ready to.

Then there was the issue of Quaxo.

The little tux had no qualms about voicing his displeasure at nursery life. It seemed like every day there was something else that he was complaining about.

"But Munkus...why is everybody so loud?"

"They aren't even talking about anything important! How can you talk so long about nothing?"

"Pounce knocked over my books and he didn't put them back in a-l-p-h-a-b-e-t-i-c-a-l order!"

"What if I'm going deaf..."

The Jellicle protector sighed.

It had been a long week.

His little charge had gotten into the rather unfortunate habit of sneaking out of the nursery at night to go back to Jenny's den. His foster mother, as wonderful as she was, was less than sympathetic and made a point to escort him back with a firm grip.

Munkustrap was much more easily swayed.

He just had such a difficult time saying no to the kit. Whether he knew it or not, Quaxo was incredibly persuasive, with his tiny little body and large brown eyes blinking so innocently at him.

How could anyone say no to that?

He had no idea how Jenny did it.

Regardless, it wasn't uncommon for Munk of late to wake up with a face full of kitten. Quaxo liked his den much more than the nursery, and Munkustrap was too soft to force him back.

"You're doing him no good by babying him," Jenny had warned him. "He's far too old to be co-sleeping with you."

Oh, he knew.

And he was trying his best.

Munk thought himself rather successful earlier this week when he actually managed to convince Quaxo to go back to the nursery with nothing more than a few gentle words (and the promise of rice pudding - that Jenny didn't need to know about.)

The little tux eventually agreed under those conditions.

Well that was...easier than expected.

It didn't feel great bribing the kit with treats, but hey...it worked.

...right?

He slept well that night, leaving his den just before sun rise to wake up his brother for dawn patrol.

He knew for a fact that Tugger would never wake up on his own - he was a night owl through and through. He had always been this way, ever since kit-hood. And if there was anyone feeling Alonzo's absence more than Munk, it was Tugger, who hated getting his mane tangled and dirty while on patrol.

He entered his den with bucket of water in paw, Munk finding it the most effective method of waking him up - the Maine Coon slept like a rock - but instead found something he didn't expect.

Quaxo must have made a field trip in the middle of the night, because the little tux was nestled, quite comfortably it looked like, on Tugger's back.

It took a second for Munk to even realize he was there, the tux was so small and his brother's mane so large and fluffy, it almost swallowed him whole.

The Jellicle protector had to hold back his laughter as he placed the bucket down.

Clever little minx.

And of course, Tugger was none the wiser, sleeping away without realizing he was hosting a tiny interloper.

Munk briefly considered just leaving them there, taking on the dawn patrol himself - they were awfully cute - but he knew if he didn't break Quaxo of this unfortunate habit of seeking refuge in other cats dens to avoid the nursery, then he may never be able to live independently as an adult.

Still, the little tux's relationship with his younger brother was rather charming. Charming and a bit strange, perhaps. One seemed to forget that Tugger himself was only a year older than Quaxo, but he was so big and full of personality (and himself...cough cough...) while Quaxo was so small and...well, Quaxo, that it was easy to make that mistake.

But it was clear that both toms held each other in high regard. Quaxo especially, who had such a revulsion of being touched, had enough trust in Tugger to literally fall asleep on his back...yes, it was charming.

That however didn't stop Munk from breaking up the one-sided sleepover.

The process of detaching the kitten from his younger brother's mane without waking either cat up was a challenge in of itself. As he carried Quaxo back to the nursery, he couldn't help but feel as though his charge may never end up socializing with the other kits.

And that was what worried him.

#

He had visited his humans today, something he had to remind himself to do every once in a while. The human kit was soon leaving for…. what was it called?

Un…uni…uv-sity? Something like that, and Munk didn't have any real reason to stick around once she left. According to the writing on her wall, it was "July". He wasn't sure what the word meant, but he knew "July" meant that it was summer.

And summer meant it was hot.

He was dripping wet by the time he got home, having enough of being petted and held and fed some rather unappetizing looking brown flakes that were theoretically edible.

Instead of going to bed like he would have preferred, he got ready for the nighttime patrol. There was luckily nothing new to report, but the musky scent of Macavity and his henchcats still lingered.

It was driving him mad.

What was he planning? Was he going to attack?

Munk shook his head in frustration, dragging himself to his den.

George was taking the overnight shift, so at least he would be able to get a good night's sleep. And sleep he did, passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

As life would have it, the sweet release of slumber didn't last long.

"Munkus?"

Oh, for the love of…

The grey tabby groaned, blinking open his eyes.

Little Quaxo was in front of him, eyes wide and lips trembling.

No, I'm not dealing with this tonight.

"Quaxo, what did I tell you about sneaking out of the nursery?" he asked tiredly, trying to mask the annoyance in his voice.

"But Munkus..."

"You can't keep doing this, little one. And I can't keep letting you."

The little tux blinked, tears forming in his eyes.

Was he crying?

That was...new.

"I had a bad dream," he whispered, barely audible.

Munk knew a fair amount about bad dreams. He was no stranger to them himself, especially during his childhood. Macavity left him with plenty of scars that stuck with him well into adulthood.

And Quaxo?

Maybe he shouldn't be surprised that the sensitive magical kitten would be having bad dreams.

He sighed, forcing himself to sit up.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"D-do I have to?"

Munk frowned.

"That is why you came here, isn't it?"

The little tux shifted uncomfortably, suddenly finding interest in the floor.

Everlasting, I'm too tired for this.

"Quaxo, do you need me to escort you back to the nursery? Or are you capable of finding it yourself?"

"I'm not lying," he sniffled. "I promise I'm not lying."

"I'm not accusing you of lying, little one," Munk responded, softening his tone. "But we all have bad dreams. That's not an excuse to sneak out of the nursery. I explicitly told you not to do it."

Quaxo looked back up at him, eyes still watering.

Munkustrap could feel his heart breaking.

Seriously, how could anyone say no to that face?

"Alright, alright," he groaned. "Come up here."

Quaxo gave him a soft smile before leaping onto the older cat's nest.

"Thank you, Munkus," he murmured, nuzzling his side.

"I'm not letting this go," he said firmly. "I want you to talk about it. It will help you."

"Did it help you?" he asked.

He's got me there.

...wait a second...

"How did you know about my dreams?"

"You cry out sometimes when you sleep," the tiny kit murmured. "It's okay, Jenny says I do that too."

Munkustrap closed his eyes, trying to pretend there wasn't a large migraine forming from lack of rest.

He was half tempted to ask the kit what exactly he was saying in his sleep, but the more he thought about it, the more he really didn't want to know.

"I still have some...unresolved issues," he finally said. "But talking about it has helped."

He paused.

"Mostly."

Quaxo didn't respond immediately, pressing his face into Munk's side. When he finally looked back up, he had stopped crying, but his eyes were still puffy.

"Red eyes," he murmured.

"What?"

"It's what I see. Red eyes. They're scary. And...and spiky fur. And...I don't know. I keep forgetting everything I see. It's always so c-a-l-i-g-i-n-o-u-s."

Cal...what?

If the situation wasn't so serious, Munk might have found amusement in the fact that this little kitten found more entertainment in reading a dictionary than he did….well, being a kitten.

But this was serious.

Red eyes?

Spiky fur?

"Is there anything else you can tell me?" he asked cautiously, hoping that the thoughts brewing in his head were just a result of his propensity for paranoia. "Are you only seeing one cat? Is the cat with the red eyes also the one with the spiky fur? Do you know what color the fur is?"

The kit blinked at him, taken aback.

"I...I don't know. I don't remember. I think so. The eyes are very...glow-y? E-e-r-i-e. I don't like it."

Munk didn't respond, his mind whirling. He did not like where this was heading.

"Munkus...is there something wrong?"

When isn't there?

"No...no, I'm...Quaxo, have you had this dream before?

"I don't know. Maybe?"

Great help.

"I have bad dreams a lot. I don't sleep very well anymore," Quaxo mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Tell me about it.

The Jellicle protector stood up, his muscles crying out in agony.

"Well, I can at least help with that problem. I'm going to stop by Jenny's den."

"Why?"

"She might have something to help you sleep."

"You're leaving me by myself?"

Munk gave him a small smile.

"I won't be long, little one. I promise."

Quaxo still looked distraught, clawing behind his ears.

Munkustrap ducked under his nest, grabbing a faded yellow blanket with pink flowers sewn in the side. It was made by Jenny, and used to belong to him as a kit. Munk simply did not have the heart to get rid of it.

He was a sentimental beast, what else was there to say?

He wrapped it firmly around Quaxo, who gave a gentle purr in return.

The kit loved being swaddled.

"But what if I dream again?" he asked softly. "What if the cat with the red eyes..."

"I won't let anyone hurt you."

"You promise?"

"Of course."

Quaxo remained silent for a second, weighing his options.

"Okay," he finally yawned, his exhaustion getting the better of him.

Munk shot him another smile before making his way towards the exit.

Everlasting, this place is a mess.

He simply didn't have the time to clean over the last week, and his ever-growing stash of blankets, which were usually folded neatly underneath his nest, were now accumulating dust on the floor. Once this mess was sorted out, he would have to do some spring (summer?) cleaning.

Jenny's den, however, was always spotless. He had no idea how she did it, with the revolving door of kittens, mice, beetles, and other small creatures that left more chaos and destruction with every step.

"Jenny?" he asked quietly as he entered.

No response.

"Jenny, are you there?" he asked again, his voice raised. Every second he wasted here was another second that Quaxo was alone.

He eventually heard shuffling around the den.

"Munkustrap?"

The tabby queen came around the corner, stifling a yawn.

"Do you realize it's the middle of the night?"

"Is it?" he responded weakly. "Haven't noticed..."

She rolled her eyes.

"You're sleeping schedule is atrocious, young tom. No wonder you are so stressed all the time."

Munk was pretty sure he was just born stressed, but that was an entirely different discussion.

"Tell me something I don't know. But I'm actually not here for me tonight."

Jenny raised her eyebrows.

"Oh?"

"It's for Quaxo."

He could see an automatic shift in her demeanor. One he wasn't quite able to grasp the meaning of.

"Please tell me he's still not sneaking out at night."

"Well..."

"Munkustrap," she interrupted, placing her paws on her hips. "I told you..."

"I know Jenny," he responded, unconsciously stepping backward. "But he said he had a bad dream. I was just wondering if you had something to help him sleep."

"Again?"

Munk frowned.

"What do you mean again? You knew about this?"

Her expression softened.

"Bad dreams aren't really the right word for it. They're more like…night terrors. Poor thing would constantly wake up screaming. It's why I kept him with me for so long. I didn't want him disturbing the other kits."

What?

"Why didn't you tell me this?" he exclaimed.

"Dear, night terrors are expected for kits like Quaxo. Little ones like him who have been abandoned or abused..."

"You...you don't think he was abused, do you Jenny?" Munk interrupted, his chest tightening.

"I don't know anything about him before he came here. All I know is I have a terrified kitten who would wake up screaming for his mother."

His mother?

"But...he says he doesn't remember his mother. He wouldn't lie, Jenny."

"He doesn't seem to remember anything he dreams about. It's entirely possible he is repressing some of the...harsher memories."

Munkustrap sighed, exhaustion permeating every iota of his being.

"That poor kitten..." he murmured, eyes fixed on the floor. "I just wish there was something I can do to help him."

He felt Jenny's paw on his shoulder.

"He just needs time, dear. Time and support."

From who? From me? I haven't even figured out my own problems!

And that wasn't even acknowledging the fact that Quaxo was a magician, which in of itself could mark him as roadkill in some circles.

Munk pushed her paw off, anger bubbling inside him.

"I can't possibly give him what he needs," he responded bitterly.

"And why not?"

Why not?

How was he supposed to explain this to her without giving anything away?

"Quaxo's….well, he's special Jenny. He's…."

"Magical?"

Munk's eyes widened.

"You knew about him?".

Now it was her turn to look upset.

"About his magic? Of course I do! I am his mother, or at least the closest thing he has to one. I weaned him, I taught him to talk, to sing...you think I wouldn't notice all of my needles going missing? Or his fur sparkling at night? Or his eyes..."

His eyes? What about…..oh…

The silence that followed hung over both cats, heavy and full of fear and uncertainty.

"He said he saw red eyes in his dream," Munk finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I only know one cat with red eyes."

"You said that Macavity's been hanging around the border?" she asked, knowing full well who the protector was referencing.

Sometimes Munk forgot that Jenny helped to raise Macavity, just had she did Quaxo.

And me.

"I don't know for sure. I haven't seen him. But I can smell him. And George had an altercation with one of his rats."

He didn't like the expression that crossed over Jenny's face. She looked….alarmed?

"It's entirely possible that Macavity might find interest in a kit like Quaxo," Jenny said quietly, eyes heavy with sorrow.

A sudden coldness had gripped the Jellicle protector and squeezed at his heart.

"No," he responded firmly. "Mac...how would he even know about Quaxo? About...about his powers…about…"

"Munk," Jenny interrupted. "Dreams are often influenced by our waking lives. It's our way of processing certain emotions or memories. Can you tell me why Quaxo would be dreaming of Macavity if he had no memory of him?"

Munk took another step back, his mind reeling.

No, he absolutely did not like where this was going.

"Jenny," he said slowly. "You...you aren't suggesting that Quaxo...that he's..."

He could not finish. It was as though the words were not computing in his brain.

"Honey," Jenny murmured. "You need to breathe. You need to…"

To what?

"What if he's after him? What if…"

"It's okay," Jenny cut in. "He is safe. He is in the nursery which is guarded..."

"Jenny, he's not in the nursery!" he cried. "He's in my den…"

"You left him alone?" she hissed, eyes flashing.

He didn't have time to respond.

Munk dashed to through the door, running - no sprinting - back to his den.

I left him alone. I left him- Macavity and his henchcats are lingering and I left him alone...

He burst back into his den, almost doubling over from lack of oxygen.

"Quaxo?" he yelled frantically.

The yellow blanket he had wrapped him in earlier was hanging loosely off the nest, with no kitten in sight.

A sudden feeling of dread washed over the Jellicle protector as the reality of the situation sunk in.

Quaxo was gone.